If You're Right Here, Then Why Do I Miss You So Much?
by bunniesgonomnom
Summary: "But moments like these, where they were cuddled up on the plush couch, her arm around his back, his head resting on her right shoulder, her hand holding a book - his book - in front of them, made him wish that he could never leave this living room." One shot. Spoilers for the end of season five.


_Disclaimer: Richard Castle is both a fictional best-selling author; I am a computer science student who lost one of her shoes last night. You do the math._

_A/N: This started out a short, fluffy one-shot, but I felt as though I wasn't keeping it true to the idea of a long distance relationship, so I brought another idea into it. Hopefully it's not too much action for one fic. I hope you enjoy it! - Samy_

* * *

_And it's crazy here without you,_

_I used to think this all was ours,_

_We'd stay up late,_

_Debate on how we'd find our way,_

_You'd say,_

_"It's all up in the stars."_

_- "Stars" by Fun._

* * *

"Rick, _stop!_"

But Castle put on that face, that oh-I-didn't-do-anything-my-darling-Beckett-what-ar e-you-talking-about face, that face he exclusively used when Kate found ten brand new boxes of Oreos unexplainably in the cupboard or when wedding dress catalogs were nonchalantly left on her coffee table. She wasn't going to deny that she found the face cute, but to her, the face was _not_ applicable for such a time.

"What did I do?" Castle asked, keeping the face.

She narrowed her eyes at him, gave him _the look_, the one that stated you-know-what-you-did-but-I-know-you'll-never-own- up-to-it-so-this-conversation-ends-now, and doing as subtext had told him, he quieted, pulled her closer on the couch. To him, this apartment was unfamiliar; her place in D.C. was small, a single woman's apartment, and though he wished to get to know such a place, he somehow felt disconnected from they couch they were on, from the bookshelves against the wall, from the broad, bright window that looked out on the nation's capital. However, he felt connected to her, and as he lay on the couch with her arms around him, he wished that she would let him visit her more often in this place. Though he didn't understand why, she thought that having him fly out to the capital every weekend was irrational, and despite their morning texts and nightly phone calls, he wished that she could always be with him. Having her so many miles away had made him tense; before, he'd been able to write into the wee hours of the morning and have the best part of his day be when he curled up next to the warm, sleepy, wondrous woman in his bed, but now, he came back to empty sheets, and though he knew better, he somehow expected her to be there. You waited four years for Kate, he would think to himself, so you can wait a few more, can't you? But moments like these, where they were cuddled up on the plush couch, her arm around his back, his head resting on her right shoulder, her hand holding a book - _his_ book - in front of them, made him wish that he could never leave this living room.

When he'd tried to move in with her, problems had quickly developed. With Martha running the loft and with Alexis too nervous at school to be without her father nearby, Rick had found himself in a compromising situation; Kate had then told him to go, told him that his family needed him, to which he responded that she was his family as well. He knew Kate Beckett, from the depths of her heart to the Russian word tattooed below her left breast to the way she wanted the best for every situation even if the best left her in the dust, so he was reluctant to go, but with force, she made him leave. However, he would never forget the way she held him before he left the airport to go to back New York; with her arms clutched at his shoulder, she'd breathed him in deeply, and she'd pulled him so close that despite their layers of fall clothing, he could feel her rapid heartbeat against his own, and with every last bit of confidence, she'd strongly declared that she would miss him. Though he refused to tell her, he'd heard her finish off her statement with some words under her breath.

"Please don't leave me," she'd mouthed to herself.

He hadn't wanted to.

But they were alright together. He'd forced her into Skype calls even when she was on duty, and whenever she told him about a job, he would constantly text her during said job to the point where both Rachel and Matt, her coworkers, had threatened to shoot Kate's cell phone. Of course, Castle had only found such an idea funny, so Kate had been forced to make her own threats in order for him to stop. Secretly, she liked it when he persisted in sending the texts; somehow, his excitement kept the job brand new for her. They talked on the phone every night from five to six, being that she usually cooked dinner during that time and being that neither of them usually had another place to be. During that phone call, they would share things about their day, would talk about pointlessly domestic things, such as where her pills were or what new books he'd bought. They attempted to hold each other close despite the distance, but still, they missed each other. No matter how strong a couple was, long distance would be tough, and though Castle and Beckett could cope, they did wish that they didn't have to.

They'd openly admitted that they lived for these weekends, the weekends in which she could hold a book up as they held each other on her white plush couch. Though she'd been entranced in her advanced copy of the next Nikki Heat novel, a novel that was currently untitled, he had started talking, had butt in with irrelevant comments about when he'd first written certain scenes.

"Oh, and I wrote that one the night that we celebrated our engagement," he said, pointing to a line on her page in front of them.

"_Castle_," she sneered, telling him to be quiet.

However, after a few moments, she bit her lip and looked to him. Of course, he thought, she would want me to be quiet but then wish she knew what I'd been speaking of. He'd readied the story just in case.

"Which celebration?" she asked. "The champagne one or the dinner one?"

"Neither," he said, astonished as he looked to her. "Beckett, you were there for both of those, and you better remember what happened..._after_."

Rolling her eyes at him, she showed that she did remember; however, a small smile danced on her lips as she rolled her eyes. Oh, those had been _good_ nights. But he'd been speaking of a different time.

"Do you remember when we went to Remy's right after you'd accepted?" he asked, looking to her as she put the book down on her lap and as she glanced to him.

Nodding quickly, she said, "We walked there after I'd said yes, and then we got shakes and fries."

"I still can't believe that you actually dip your fries in your shakes."

"Castle, it's delicious," she insisted. "I'm surprised that _you_, of all people, don't do that."

"Didn't," he corrected.

A heartwarming smile formed on her lips as she leaned forward to kiss him, to hold his lips against hers as they held each other. These were his favorite kinds of kisses, the ones she gave him simply because she could, and as he kissed her back, he wished with all of his heart that they could just be like this forever, could just live together wherever they were, whether that place was New York or whether it was the capital. Then, he could kiss her every day, and he could kiss her for every moment of every day, and somehow, he couldn't think of a better way to live.

When she did pull away, she asked, "So we went to Remy's."

"And got shakes and fries."

"But after that."

He curled his lips into a smile.

"We talked about how we would make this work back at the loft, and surely enough, Hurricane Martha decided to make an appearance," he said, retelling the story.

She leaned her head against his; over the book, he entwined her hand with his.

"Of course, we had to tell her at that point," Castle said, retelling the story. "She was ecstatic, so we came to the conclusion that we had to tell your father as well."

"And so we went to see him," she said, continuing the story.

"Ah, ah, ah," he said, turning to face her. "Beckett, I do believe that _I_ was the one telling the story."

Rolling her eyes, she pressed a kiss to his cheek before leaning her head against his and before saying, "I'm listening."

"He was delighted, to say the least," he continued, uninterrupted. "Even though he seemed unnerved by the idea of long distance, he still supported us, said that he would help out in any way possible."

"Alexis was a different matter. And for good reasons as well."

"She was," he said, not minding the interjection this time. "She felt as though she was in the middle of a strange situation."

"She _was_ in a strange situation, being at her age," Kate added. "However, we worked it out, and now she seems content with us."

"Yeah," he added as he began to do one of his less annoying habits, the habit of spinning the engagement ring around her left finger whenever he held her left hand. "We finished the day by telling the precinct and all of its inhabitants that you were leaving and that we were engaged."

"At least they acted as though they were happy about it all," she said, grimacing.

"Ryan and Esposito always say that they miss you," Castle added.

"I miss those two more than I can say," Kate said, shaking her head.

"If you ever want to come home and visit, you can," he said, continuing to spin the ring.

Home, she thought. Even though this apartment was her current residence, the place would never be _home_.

"That night, we got back to the loft fairly late, and that was when you realized it," he said.

"We hasn't told my mother," she said, recalling the memory.

"So we drove out to see her together," he said. "It was an incredible pleasure to meet her, Kate. For more than an hour, we sat beside her, told her of what had been going on since you'd last seen her. I take it that she quite liked me as well."

With a laugh, she added, "I'm sure your witty remarks are now in a special place in her heart."

"We left the cemetery truly late," he said, "and it was best that we'd called the car service because we both were in fits of tears. When we returned to the loft, you didn't want to keep celebrating, and quite frankly, neither did I; instead, we tore into the congratulatory cake that the one and only Martha Rodgers had baked."

"Purchased," Kate corrected.

"Either way, we took it with spoons. Then, once we were bloated enough to gain weight, we headed to bed, decided to just go to sleep. You were out within a few minutes, and, believe me, it was hard to reach out to my nightstand and grab my laptop once inspiration had struck."

"And why had inspiration struck?" she asked.

He breathed in, smiled at the memory.

"The woman who was going to be my wife was lying in bed next to me. Kate, you should've seen her; she had all of these curls sprawled out over her pillow, and as she clung to me, I could see that she hadn't taken the ring off. The ring looks absolutely perfect on her, and right in between her dainty left fingers, the stones sat wondrously. She's a picture, this fiancée of mine. Sometime, you should meet her. She's maddening, challenging, frustrating, and beautiful all at the same time, and I love her more than I can put into words. Oh, and she still owes me approximately fifty six coffees."

With that, she leaned over to kiss his jaw, to kiss all the way up to his earlobe. That man of hers, how he could make her insides turn to melted butter. Sometimes, she wanted to say that he was a sap, wanted to act as though she were above such romantic things, but most of the time, she resisted; she loved how treasured he made her feel. And who even was she? She was just a cop-turned-agent, a woman who was alarmingly like all other women, or at least that was what she had believed herself to be. In his eyes, she was a great enough character to carry many books to the New York Times list. Maybe that says something about my self esteem, she thought; no matter how boring people think they are, they're truly much more than their own opinions of themselves.

"I love you," she whispered into his ear, and when he smiled at that, she repeated the phrase again.

"I love you too, Kate," he said, pulling her closer.

Looking down, he noticed the watch on her wrist; it was almost four pm, so he was due to be on a flight back to New York in less than two hours. They'd decided to leave at four-fifteen simply because they'd never been able to leave her apartment - or his, if they'd been in New York at the time - on the hour only because leaving would suddenly turn into a tumulus effort of trying to have one more last kiss before they left. That, or they would distract themselves by saying that it would just be another few weeks apart, maybe a few months at most. They would continually tell each other that it wasn't as much time as it seemed to be, and somehow, they always managed to be late because of such things.

He saw her noticing the time to, and as she shifted against his lap, he felt the book tumble to the ground; instead of reading, she pressed herself against him, held him even closer.

"Kate," he said softly, feeling how much heavier her heart seemed; she always pressed against him more whenever she was upset.

Leaning up to speak to him, she whispered to him, "Please don't leave me."

"This isn't going to be _goodbye_, Kate," he said, looking to her as he shook his head. "It's a _see you soon_ instead."

At that, she groaned as she pressed her cheek against his shoulder, as she ran her hand up and down his torso.

"It's easier when I'm the one leaving," she said, holding him close. "That way, I have to compose myself during the flight in order to avoid stares. Once I get back here, I can cry, but by then, I get to call you, so at least I'm back and at least I've heard your voice before I start to truly, deeply miss you."

"Kate," he said breathlessly, wishing she wouldn't speak in such a way.

Secretly, he liked those times more as well; he didn't like to leave her alone in this city. If he were to leave her alone in New York, things would be different; she could call Ryan or Esposito or Lanie if she needed someone. However, she worked too much to find fiends outside of her job, so she was left alone in the city after he left. Even though he respected her space, he didn't like to feel as though he'd left her entirely alone when she did need someone.

"Can you try for a different flight?" she asked, leaning against him. "Maybe there's one in a few hours for now. Or maybe you can spend the night-"

"_Kate_."

Usually, he was the one to say such things, whether they were in New York or in the capital. However, she was saying them now, and though he wished he could, he couldn't go through with her requests. He had a deadline coming up, and she had to work the next morning, so he couldn't stay. Of course, they both realized that, but right then, they tried to pretend that they didn't.

"You know what?" he said, looking to her.

Glancing up, she met his gaze, and, God, he could see that she was holding in tears. Maybe he could spend the night. No, he forced himself to think. But he couldn't bear to see her like this...

"What?" she asked, her throat dry.

"I'll get you a gate pass," he said. "I used to get them when Alexis was flying alone to see her mother. I'll make sure that you can accompany me to the gate, so then we can have just a bit more time together, alright?"

"Castle, we said that we wouldn't do anything to extend time together," she said. "That was one of our rules."

"Yes, but that was a rule about changing flights and appearing unannounced," he said. "You'll just be leaving the airport an hour later than expected. Therefore, we aren't breaking the rule."

She leaned against him, muttered to his shoulder, "Thank you."

"Always, Kate," he said, leaning over to kiss her scalp.

But they had to get up. Whether they liked it or not, they had to get up. Forcefully, she brought herself off of the couch, and as he stood up, he could see that she was already grabbing his bags from the bedroom; he picked her book up off of the floor, made sure he held her place with her bookmark, a one of many printouts of her boarding pass for the next time she would go to New York. Just a month, he thought as he shut the advanced copy over the bookmark. He just had to wait a month to see her again, and until then, there were phones, computers, and text messages. But even though they could keep in contact, he longed to go back to the days in the loft during which he could call to her from the kitchen, and she would be able to hear him even if she'd been upstairs at the time.

When she returned with his bags, she placed the two bags, a backpack and a small leather luggage, by her front door. Grabbing her purse, she started looking for things that she could need, such as house keys and cash for a cab. While she rifled through piles on a counter by the door, he pulled a pen out of his pocket, glanced over to make sure that she wasn't looking. With a smile, he thought of just how much such an action would mean to her.

"Ready to go?" she asked a few moments later, glancing to him as he placed her book down on the rattan coffee table.

He shook his head but anyway said, "Yes."

"Alright," she said. "Do you have your boarding pass? And all of your things?"

She looked less than exuberant to let him go, but they both could recall the first time he'd visited her; he'd left his toothbrush behind, and at seeing the object, Kate had burst into tears, hadn't stopped until two hours later when he'd called her to tell her that he'd arrived home safely. Ever since that first event, they'd been careful to bring everything home after each trip. With a nod, he confirmed that he did have everything.

"Great," she said, clasping her hands together. "Let's go catch a cab."

But before they could leave, he walked to her and brought his hands across the small of her back, interlacing his fingers behind her.

"I love you," he said honestly, looking into her eyes. "I truly, truly do, Kate."

Setting her purse down on the nearby counter, she let her arms wrap underneath his so that she could hold onto his shoulder blades.

"I love you too, Rick," she said, looking up to him.

"And," he said, taking a hand and weaving it through her hair, then down to cup her cheek, "one month of being away from you would never change that."

Rolling her eyes but laughing, Kate said, "No, one month wouldn't change that."

"I'm going to miss you," he said, holding her there, "but missing is a good thing; if we didn't miss each other, then there would be a problem. The missing and the waiting may seem excruciating, but in the end, it's all worth it, isn't it?"

She nodded twice, added, "It is worth it because then we can see each other again."

"And whenever you miss me, you call me, and if I don't pick up, you call again and again until I do."

With a laugh, she said, "Alright."

"And do you promise to pick up when I miss you?"

Pulling him into a warm kiss, she wrapped her lips around his, and as he kissed her back, he began to wish that he could spend the night as she'd recommended. However, they'd made rules, and he didn't want to break any of those rules, so instead, he kissed her as fully as he could, soaked up every last bit of Kate that he could. When she leaned away from him, as she pressed her forehead to his, he pulled her body closer to his, held her as close as he possibly could.

"I love you," she said, "and I promise to always pick up your calls."

"Even when Rachel and Matt tell you not to?" he asked with a giddy smile.

"Maybe," she said, teasing him.

With a chaste, quick kiss, he held her closer, but then they did have to leave, had to find a taxi to take them to the airport.

Thankfully, getting a cab wasn't a challenge, but throughout the cab ride, they couldn't seem to be close enough; even though they didn't wear seat belts in the taxi, they still couldn't hold each other as closely as they wanted to. At the airport check-in, she held his hand the entire time that he presented his boarding pass, even helped him lift his luggage onto the luggage scale. Thankfully, she was easily given a gate pass (working with the government had definitely helped), so they went through security together, waited in the long line while still holding hands. She'd laughed at him as he'd had to tie and retie his sneakers throughout the checkpoint while she only had been forced to remove her ballet flats. Somehow, her ring had managed to set off the metal detector, so for one of few times that weekend, she'd been forced to take the ring off; when she'd finally been able to put it back on, Castle could see such great relief and exuberance in her eyes.

"You truly like that ring, don't you," he said as they went to leave the security checkpoint.

Her hand in his, she said, "It's a beautiful ring, and it was given to me by a beautiful man. What isn't there to love?"

The smile he gave was infectious.

Though the walk to the gate had been long, neither of them minded; instead, they talked of what their next plans were, such as how he would start editing another Nikki draft and how she was going to go undercover again. They spoke of their past undercover operations together, where she'd unbuttoned a few more buttons than necessary and where he'd gone to play poker with the Russians in Chinatown. Then, they spoke of other things, such as how her father was doing and how Alexis was dealing with sophomore year. As they walked, they talked of everything, from how he missed her cooking to how she missed New York's hot dogs. The strange thing about them was that they could even turn walking to an airport terminal into something profoundly romantic; neither of them wanted to understand their relationship and instead laughed at it or marveled at it.

Once they'd arrived at the gate, he checked in, and while they'd sat down to wait for the flight's boarding to be called, she put her head on his shoulder as he held her hand in his. Spinning her ring around her finger, he whispered sweet nothings into her ear.

"It's only a month," he would say.

"We've gone longer than this before," he would add.

"I'll only be a call away," he would repeat.

When the boarding was called, she instinctively clutched him; she didn't care that others were staring. Before he'd gone to get in line to board, she'd stepped up on tiptoes and kissed him with such might that he nearly toppled over. Afterward, he'd held her for a few moments until the line was too short to not get into. Then, he joined the line, and right before he went into the terminal to board, he looked back to her, gave her a wave and a smile in hope that she would cheer up. Giving a watery laugh, she waved back to him, blew a kiss as well. And then he was gone, headed on an hour and ten minute-long flight back to his loft, and she was left alone to navigate her way back to the airport's entrance.

She drifted all of her way back, as though she weren't actually controlling her limbs. When she managed a cab outside of the airport, she rode silently, as though she hadn't been babbling on about nothing with Castle only an hour beforehand. Back at her street, she paid the cabbie, then headed into her apartment.

Most of all, she hated the emptiness her home had once he left each time. Though his scent still lingered between her sheets, and though there were spaces for his shampoo bottles in the shower, he wasn't there, hadn't left any signs of his last visit behind. Instead, the apartment was empty, was a single woman's apartment; she longed for it not to be.

She wanted to cry even though she didn't want to cry. Somehow, she felt frozen; she felt as though she were a piece of glass, and if the wind knocked her too far one way, she would shatter, would break into a million pieces. She wanted to feel all of the emotions that she was hiding from, but she also wanted to push through, wanted to show that she was strong enough to come to terms with missing him. Because missing him was a fact of life, she wanted to make amends, but would crying or would not crying help her make amends?

Leaning down on the couch, she pressed her spine against the cushions, closed her eyes, and breathed slowly until she felt in control again. In for a count of four, out for a count of eight. Back in New York, Doctor Burke had taught her that, and sometimes, the exercise still came in handy. Reaching toward the foot of the couch, she grabbed a throw blanket, wrapped the warm garment around her body as she reached for the Nikki Heat book on the countertop. However, as she opened the book, she noticed that something was off about the copy.

In the front of the book, a note had been written.

_To Kate_, she read, _one month is both a long time and a short time. One month is a long time to not be with the woman I love, but one month is a short time when it's the amount of time I have to wait before seeing that woman again. Only thirty days, Kate! Our countdown is almost up, isn't it? And the day will be here before we know it. Until then, we'll have to live off of Skype, but I think we'll manage. So long as Nikki Heat is on a page, I don't think we'll ever truly be without each other. I love you, from Rick._

Had she not been so upset, she would've found the note sappy, but instead, she felt her lips curl up at it. They truly never would be apart, would they. While he wrote about Nikki Heat, she would read his words about Nikki Heat, whether she read them for the first or for the millionth time. They could connect through Nikki even when both of their phones were off; maybe that was even their best connection of all. Even though he wasn't physically there, his book was physically there, and for now, that had to be enough. So maybe she did let a tear leak from her eye, but the tear was a good tear; it was a hopeful tear, a tear that could wait a mere thirty days to see him.

And who knew? Maybe this wouldn't be their situation in a few years from then, and maybe they would be living together at that point. Whatever happened, Kate could wait a mere thirty days to see him. They'd waited four years to be together; they could wait a few more before they started living together. For now, she would have to spin her ring around her finger herself, but if that meant that he could spin it for her in thirty days from then, then she could wait. He'd said that he would always wait for her; now she could prove that she would always wait for him.

Flipping to her bookmarked page, she found the lines that he'd written the night that they celebrated their engagement, and suddenly, she wasn't so alone anymore; his arms were wrapped around her again, and now they were enjoying the book together. For now, that would be enough. The words are only words on a page, but somehow, they were enough, and she could hear his voice again, could see him in her apartment, could smell his cologne near her.

And suddenly, missing him didn't hurt nearly as much.


End file.
